


Of Open Secrets, Poorly Hidden Desires and a Perfect Almost-Heaven

by Harley_N_Joker



Series: WIP Me Into Shape [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Gen, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harley_N_Joker/pseuds/Harley_N_Joker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every writer, may it be some big named fantasy author or just some low-life trying to feel great by writing cheap porn like me, has to have some scripts hidden in the back his of mind and computer. Scripts he or she may have found great as an idea but lacked the enthusiasm and creativity to write down on paper. Or better, finish to write down on paper.<br/>These are mine and yes, I am such an attention whore that I´ll even upload things I´m partially ashamed of. Namely because, after years refining my skills in this complex, foreign language, I realize how badly a few of them are written.</p><p> </p><p>This series is going to be multi-verse as I´ve tried my luck in more fandoms than just Supernatural.<br/>Oddly enough I´m going to start with Supernatural.<br/>Try find the irony here...and the brownie points after poking it in the back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Open Secrets, Poorly Hidden Desires and a Perfect Almost-Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be an alternative, slashy version of "Changing Channels", which is one of my favorite episodes...just so you know.
> 
> Born a year ago with a Castiel written clearly too OOC for my tastes now it will - and I´m denfinitely sure of it - remain a poorly written WIP that may have had some potential when I still knew where I wanted to go with it.

Castiel was not someone to hold a grudge or someone to be angered quickly. But right now he wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into the trickster´s face. Well, if he was able to survive this – and may his father forgive him for that – hellhole of an illusion.

 

He heaved another annoyed sigh and felt the slight trickle of sweat running down his half-exposed chest. And not for the last time this day he wondered how he got into this mess in the first place.

There was confusion accompanied by a small amount of worry when the feeling of Dean´s presence, normally intertwined with his grace, suddenly vanished. However, the apocalypse was nigh and Castiel was needed up in heaven to sort through their carefully prepared war plans. And when he was honest with himself – which he always was – it was nothing unusual these days to lose the connection he had with the hunter from time to time. He blamed the breaking seals and the resulting turmoil in heaven for those…interferences was the better term, for he never truly lost his bond with Dean.

No, not even Death would be able to perform the act of separating them. At least the angel believed he couldn´t. And as far as he was concerned there´d never be a chance to proof his beliefs wrong.

So Castiel waited for the hunters to finish their dangerous business, hoping and praying to his father for success and their safe return, his anger for not been asked for help deeply shoved into a dark corner of his subconscious.

Minutes turned into hours.

Hours turned into days.

Still there was no sign of either Dean or Sam. And the angel´s worry grew into something huge and ugly, gnawing at his patience and trust in the brothers´ abilities like a zombie on a brain – and when they returned he would have to have a serious talk with them about influencing his mind and thoughts.

But now, all Castiel could think about was how stupid he was to not have acted when he first felt their connection weaken.

How could he have been so selfish with his own plans when all that really mattered were the Winchester brothers?

The apartment, Castiel had sensed them in before they disappeared, was nice unlike most of the usual places they had to stay in. Small and old but clean and with the cozy feeling of…well…home.

He paused in his search of any clues about the brothers´ whereabouts when he heard the low crunch of paper under his foot. It was a candy paper, it´s Day-Glo colors telling him about its necessity for a complete, healthy nutrition.

Castiel snorted and shook his head unbelievingly. When would those humans finally see how wrong they were in some aspects of their life?

Another look around the room told the angel there was more than one candy wrapper. Either Dean had traded his biggest vice, alcohol, for candy – for which Castiel would be very proud of him…and very suspicious – or they were the first hints to the case he had found so far.

Also, Sam´s laptop was still lying innocently on the only table in the apartment. Waiting for its owner to return and use it to its breaking point.

So, they had intended to return, which meant there was something seriously wrong – more than usual anyway – and that worried Castiel to no end. And still no useful clue as to where the brothers had gone.

Time to use some of his – and it made the angel shudder inwardly – “angel mojo”, as Dean and Sam had blurted out so happily once.

Castiel sighed, unhappy with his vessel´s lack of knowledge about technological devices, for he would not need his powers to create a memory of what had happened if he simply knew how to turn on and operate the laptop.

Perhaps Sam was willing and patient enough to teach him, if…when…he found them.

The flashes of remembrance of this particular day were disordered and mixed up with previous ones. What Castiel could clearly detect were disturbing images of various Asian women in embarrassing positions and the feeling of shame and deep satisfaction. He tried to shove those as far away as possible, knowing fully well to whom they belonged. Shaking his head to clear himself from those images, the angel tried to search deeper.

He saw a man, smashed by what seemed to appear an angry, green giant, heard a woman screaming and felt an immense pressure of an unknown power.

Dean and Sam in suits, a police officer, another woman – or the same? –, inability to control feelings, multiple deaths, candy, carving wooden sticks, a call for help…

The unused warehouse at the other end of this town!

And with the rustling of invisible feathers, Castiel was gone.

 

* * *

 

The Impala stood there quietly, patiently waiting for her friend, master, lover – whatever Dean considered himself to be – to return to her. To touch her as softly and lovingly as if she was the most precious thing on earth. And she probably was, compared to all the romances the older hunter had tried to make work.

But that was not the point of importance now!

Castiel´s anger had returned.

Full. Force.

To deal with a trickster – THE trickster, who had caused so much trouble for both of them before and who was unwilling to be killed! – alone was stupid beyond the angel´s understanding. And he would inform those insane beings of his opinion about such an act, the long and painful way.

But right now the biggest part of his concerns was focused on the overwhelming force he felt. So unlike any trickster´s power…at least the ones he´d had the “pleasure” of meeting.

He approached the tall building cautiously, his grace flaring up in wariness around him. Whether he wanted or not, he needed to get in there to help his…friends.

And if this whole day wasn´t unpleasant enough: The door was locked tightly.

Normally this wasn´t even a problem for an angel of a rank lower than Castiel was.

And “normally” was the crucial point here.

He tried to yank the door open with his strength. To de- and rematerialize his body into the building. To burst the door to shreds with a blast of energy.

Nothing seemed to have any effect on the stubborn thing. And that did less than nothing to sooth the angel´s raving mind.

It was insane! Here he was, right in front of the building where two of the few beings he cared most about in his eternal life were held hostage – and in this he had no doubt anymore – by a crazy pagan god who thought it was funny to play with everyone´s life like he pleased!

Before Castiel could fully comprehend what he was actually doing he began to hammer his fists against the rusty door, sending small sparks of grace with every punch.

That finally seemed to have other results than this hindrance figuratively laughing at him. The ubiquitous power shifted uncomfortably against his vessel, trying to push him away. However, Castiel didn´t let himself be swayed from his tries to break in with – again – sheer force. It was hard and shook his very core but he stayed.

After a few moments of senseless banging against the metal object, fog started to build around him. Dark and heavy, making it difficult to breathe or move or even think for that matter.

“You are not going to keep me away from them…”Castiel growled his voice thick with hatred and stubbornness.

His exclamation only made the fog move faster up his body, constricting like a snake around his torso. In addition to his physical ache now came a painful tug on his grace. The creature was no ordinary trickster, Castiel was sure of that.

The good thing was the door finally began moving inwards. So he pushed with all the power he had left. And the door finally slid open.

Wait…when was the door cut in half?

But Castiel had no time to wonder about that because he was already stumbling through. Into a situation he never would´ve thought possible.

 

* * *

 

The relief of finding them, ruffled and horribly confused but alive and breathing, was quite short-lived.

They were both staring at him wide-eyed, hope and disbelief clearly showing in their pleading gazes.

“Cas?”

“Is this another trick?”

“It´s me. Uh…what are you doing here?” he asked, only now realizing the unusual place they were standing in.

Bright lights, mismatched colors, half-naked smiling Asian women and an overly but poorly dressed guy in blue. It looked almost like the videos Dean so guiltily treasured.

But it was no “porn”. If so, Sam would never stand beside his brother and Dean himself would be sitting on a rugged couch, jeans around his ankles and arousal visibly showing in his gaze and body language.

Castiel didn´t want to think about why he could imagine this picture so easily…and willingly.

So he turned his attention back to the current situation and the most stupid question the angel had heard so far.

“Us? What are you doing here?”

Well, he thought vacation was direly needed. After all, it wasn´t like a certain apocalypse was near. Like he didn´t have a war to prepare for.

Or better: Like every creature, demon and hostile angel was after Dean and Sam because they were THE vessels for the two beings wanting to end this mess in a seriously bad way for all of them!

“Looking for you. You´ve been missing for days.” Castiel answered as calmly as he could.

Though he knew his eyes were scolding Dean for his random stupidity.

“So get us the hell outta here then!”

That was a word. He could work with that – luckily Sam had gotten the brains – even if the strange presence kept lingering heavily on his grace.

“Let´s go.” Castiel had been prepared for a change in environment when he attempted to “angelwarp” them – thank you again, Dean and Sam – out of this misery.

But nothing of what happened next had been part of his escape-the-evil-force-with-the-simple-use-of-your-grace-plan.

 

* * *

 

He had never thought it possible for an angel to fall unconscious with one single blow dealt by a human at that. However, fate and the strange humor of his host – Castiel had tried to ignore the sneering laughter in his head when the world suddenly had been falling apart – seemed very eager to prove him totally wrong.

The angel awoke to a dull, painful throb at his right eye and a slick substance – which proved to be blood from a cut near his brow after wriggling his facial muscles a bit – sliding down his cheek. Slowly he started to realize the hard, unforgiving floor under his aching body and the increasing volume of several voices.

“Come on! Snap out of it, people! The show´s over now! Stop gaping and continue to act like the prissy sissies you are!” an obnoxiously loud voice shouted roughly and rudely into the whispers, reminding him of Dean – except it was female.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” there was a warm, comforting hand on his injured brow, carefully mopping away the flowing blood.

Castiel tried to open his heavy eyes. It was way more difficult than he thought and did nothing to subdue the growing headache in his skull.

“Don´t strain yourself, man. Billy got you pretty good. He´s infamous for his short temper and his left hook.” concern and amusement mixed together in the low rumble of her voice and Castiel didn´t know if he should find this endearing or worrying

“Though I have to admit it was kinda spooky how you turned up so suddenly. You´re not some superman, are ya?” At this the angel finally succeeded in opening the protesting lids and the first thing he did was cast an irritated and confused look into his new acquaintance’s direction.

What he got in return was a cheeky grin and a punch on his shoulder – which now ached too, thank you very much.

 

* * *

 

Abby had been very nice to him, in a gruffly kind of way. But he would be lying if he said he wasn´t used to such treatment. Spending time with the Winchester brothers and being the angel he was had sharpened Castiel´s mind to detect hidden sympathies.

Apparently the raven head had appeared out of nowhere on the set of a photo shooting, scaring “the living hell outta them, dude” and bumping right into the meanest and strongest security guard the trickster´s twisted mind had to offer. This hadn´t ended well, which Castiel could still feel when moving his face – a gash over his nose and a graze over his mouth had joined the other two wounds when he had the opportunity to look into one of the several mirrors.

He´d been allowed to stay, however, after what you could call “talk” between Abby and the man in charge – mainly it was flirting and/or shouting at him but it had worked.

**Author's Note:**

> And that´s all Jay wrote.  
> Feel free - after demanding or asking for permission, I´m not picky in that regard - to take this little bastard child of mine and help it develop into a beautiful, confident adult story.  
> I´d be eternally grateful to you.


End file.
